"How am I supposed to write about werewolves if you won't tell me more about them," I complain as I kiss Farkas's neck. We both sat in the nude in his bedroom in Jorrvaskr, my frail Imperial body was straddling his bulky Nord one. I had recently been commissioned by the Bard's College to write a series of short stories about the many beasts in Skyrim. My research into werewolves brought my attention to the Companions, which then gave Farkas the chance to catch my eye.

"I've already told you more than I should," he grumbled and tightened his grip on my hips.

"Will I ever get to see you as a wolf, though?" I ask and run my fingers through his long dark hair.

"No, you won't," he said simply and began to kiss me passionately. He pulled away and added, "If you want to know anything, you can ask and I might answer you. I might not put it as nicely as you always say things, but I can do my best."

"You don't need to be eloquent, my love. You have a sweet and honest heart and that's all I seek." I laugh as he ran his hands over me and then added, "Well, I also seek all of your secrets and your beautiful body."

Farkas let out a growl and began to nibble at my collarbone. His kisses began to trail down and he took one of my breasts into his mouth. I could feel him hardening under me and I ached to have him inside. As if he could sense my desire, he tucks one of his hands between my legs and he began stroking the spots he knows will make me moan.

"Can't you be happy with what I've told you?" He mumbled into my breast.

"Not a chance," I smiled menacing, "I want to know everything! I want to know it as if I were to run in a skin of a wolf like you."

Catching my hint, Farkas pulled back and looked up at me. "No," he grumbled and then he suddenly gripped my hips again and flipped me onto my back. "And you better not ask me about that again."

He busied his hands once again in attempts to distract my mind and prevent me from questioning him further. This was how our evenings have been going for the past week. He would bring me to his private bedroom in order for us to have "private conversations" and we would make love once he tired of my questions. This was the first time I had gathered my nerve to ask him about turning me.

I pulled myself out of the fog of pleasure enough to ask, "Why not?"

He stopped what he was doing and moved to where he could see my face. "Let's ignore the fact that I could get kicked out of the Companions. Vilkas would kill me. Literally, he would murder me on the spot. Besides, I don't think you're meant for the harsh life of a werewolf." My anger flared and, sensing it, he automatically defended his statement, "You're a bard, not a warrior."

"I can be tough!" I said defensively.

Farkas begins to look at me sympathetically, but he couldn't keep his laughter in. "Is that so?" He takes my wrists and pins them above my head and laughs more as I struggle against him.

Finally, I give in and stop struggling. I allow a slight smile to escape as I say, "Of course I can't get away from you. Maybe I simply don't want to get away from you."

"If you wanted to get away from me, could you then?" He whispered huskily with his lips a mere couple of inches from mine.

"Oh, yes," I smiled again and reached my lips up to meet his.

He keeps my arms carefully pinned with only one of his large hands and slowly slides the other hand down my body. As he moves his hand teasingly down my curves, his misty colored eyes are set on watching every feature of my face contort with pleasure.

Finally his hand reaches my hips and he lifts them up and supports them with his thighs. I can feel his hard penis pushing against me as if the teasing was as much of a torture for him as it was for me. He begins nibbling at my neck as he slides his fingers inside of me.

By the time he had me writhing with pleasure, neither of us could take it anymore. He bit onto the side of my neck and slid his shaft in so deep I couldn't help but squeal with pleasure. My lower body remains suspended in the air by one of his strong arms while he uses his other hand to massage one of my breasts, tweaking my nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

It didn't take him long to find the right angle to make his thrusts cause the most pleasure. Once he found my sweet spot, he let go of my neck and sat back to watch my body as the waves of pleasure rolled over me. When I thought I couldn't handle any more, he slid his hand from my breast down to my tiny peak and began massaging.

I couldn't handle the euphoria any longer; I needed him to take me over the edge. I lifted my hands over my head and put my palms against the wall – his signal to thrust harder. Simultaneously, we both reach our climax.

He falls down into a sweating heap upon my breasts and sighs, "Sweet Hircine, you are an amazing woman."

"Will that be my punishment every time I berate you about being a werewolf?" I laugh softly.

He lazily crawled up my body until he was face to face with me and then gave a small growl and nibbled at my ear. "Don't get any ideas, bard."